Study of Barbara

In the easy heave
and lazy reclination
of their cashmere lake,

Barbara's buoy. Yet
despite the talc
daubed on at dawn,

beneath both eyes by noon
the scar of night
burns Barbara through.

poem by Donal Mahoney
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Looking For Work

Infinite feints
for a lane
to go driving.

Still there's
no opening.
Jump shot

pumped from afar
spits in the net,
sole sound.

The bucket is made,
but the ball
the ball is still bouncing.

poem by Donal Mahoney
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Physical For An Old Woman Picked Up Wandering

Between her legs
the doctor found a goatee

gray as city pigeons
flying through factory smoke

a goatee that hadn't been combed
that hadn't been kept

that quit in fangs
an inch above her knees

poem by Donal Mahoney
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Aura and Essence

Thumping off my eye
I find the fist to be
less important
than the blur
the fist arrives in.
Coming toward me now
that man, his girl.
But more important is
the golden halo of the sun
falling now around them.

poem by Donal Mahoney
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Bells from the Cathedral

How do you tell
a wife you love
there are Spring days
in raw Chicago
bright with sun
and the boom
of bells
from the Cathedral
how do you tell
a wife like that
there are Spring days
you wish you had a girl

poem by Donal Mahoney
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Prayer for the Priests of Mexico City

July in the streets
of Mexico City:
One of the women
one never would marry.
One of the women one sees
for an hour, for an evening.
Taco, tequila,
tequila with lemon.
Christ keep the priests
of Mexico City.

poem by Donal Mahoney
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Love and Slaughter

Sheep are by a goat while
cattle are like swine, prodded, yet
cattle go by hammer while
swine are by the hind leg hung
then swung about to spigot.
Quicker, infinitely cleaner, is
the hacksaw of sweet Susan's laughter.

poem by Donal Mahoney
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Caseworker's Tune

Housing Project, Chicago

Where I am now
there are no leas, no
sheep feeding.
There are tenements,
children breeding.
Where I am now
there are no trees, no
wrens lighting.
There are halls far, dark,
an old man peeing.

poem by Donal Mahoney
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Silver Anniversary

There beyond the shrub
the sun medallions on the grass
around a python and boar,
the python winding.

Through binoculars I see
the python work so slow.
The boar now knows

what I learned long ago.
To go this way
takes years.

poem by Donal Mahoney
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Essence and Existence

Part readily the skin
and readily the pulp,
as readily the tongues
wild apples bore,
eviscerate the cores
and watermelon spit the pits
they cannot swallow.
Let this be done before
the tongues
wild lemons bore
find no cores.

poem by Donal Mahoney
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